June 18, Day 3. Mountain.

Tuesday June 18, Day 3.  Hiked up and down and back up the mountain. 18.56 miles, climbed 3660 ft. 

Dear Trail Friends,

As I was walking down the road from the top of the mountain, a car pulled over and a young woman asked where she could find the trailhead for the hike up Mt. Constitution. 

“That depends,” I said. “there is more than one trail up the mountain.”  (She was able to explain what she wanted and I was able to answer her question and we both went happily on our way.) I was nearly down the mountain when she asked me, and photo 1 gives you an idea of what it is like to walk down that road. 

Three paths meet at the top of the mountain: the paved road, and two footpaths. One of the foot trails starts at Cascade Lake (the lowest lake, near the North arch entrance) and joins with another trail that starts at Mountain Lake (a larger, higher lake). The other trail starts at Twin Lakes. Photo 2 shows you my track along these trails for today’s hike. 

If you look above Summit Lake you may be able to make out the worlds “Mount Constitution” at the top (partly concealed by the three tracks meeting there). 

When I was a girl - I’ve written about this before - my vegetarian grandfather gave me a book from an international vegetarian conference. It spoke of the religions of the world as being different paths up the mountain. But, it cautioned, it is important to choose a path and walk it (not just stand at the bottom onservomg that all paths lead to the top). That story has always stayed with me, and of course the hike designed to walk all the paths up this particular mountain makes me think of that story. Only, in this case, it is possible to walk all the paths. 

I began early in the morning on the trail from Cascade Lake via Cold Spring. I stopped to visit the old gold mine, as I did on last year’s hikeathon. I found it a little scary to be inside the dark rock tunnel (though I went to the end of both branches this time, which did not turn out to be very far). I also found myself curious about the men who created the mine and worked in it. How did they make it (dynamite? Pick axes? Where did they carry the big rocks away to?) Did they find gold?  What did it feel like to them to work there? Photo 3 is a collage of the entrance viewed from outside looking in (left) and inside looking out (right). 

I made another stop at what I have been told is a Medicine Wheel made by native people following traditions that precede the arrival of Europeans. I prayed - a simple thank you and request for guidance and blessing - to the spirits of each of the four directions (there were stones in a circle and then lines along the east-west and north-south axes). I think I mentioned the stone circle at Turtleback Mountain and how similar it seems to me.  If this one is truly a traditional medicine wheel, I suspect the one at Turtleback is too. 

I also climbed the stone tower at the top, which I rarely do. But I met the man (Rolf Eriksen) who restored stone tower (when I was coming back from my 50th college reunion).  We were both waiting for the shuttle bus to the Anacortes ferry terminal to head home to Orcas. We got into the same kind of conversation I was having at my 50th reunion - memories of the Vietnam war (this remarkable man visits Vietnam regularly to do reparative work for that country) and stories of our lives - the kind of conversation you have when you are 71 thinking you are still 21 and your life is a still pretty much a blank canvas.  

At some point in the conversation we discovered we had missed our bus and so we shared a Lyft to the ferry, since it was the only way we could get home that night. I would have fallen head over heels in love with the guy (it felt like I was falling in love) if some calm cool/headed part of me didn’t point out that I was 71, long married, and that it wasn’t really appropriate for me to be swept away in the lovely and powerful vortex of feeling that was surrounding me. I was amazed that part of me could step out of it and appraise the situation. There’s something to be said for old age (in its favor, I mean). 

But memories of that rush of feeling made it a slightly guilty pleasure to climb “his” tower and read about what it meant to him. Photo 4 is the view from the tower (looking down on the viewpoint where I usually stand) and photo 5 a not very good photo of the description of the restoration. 

I walked down to Mountain Lake by way of Little  Summit. Photo 6 is from a little detour to Summit Lake (which is the one body of water in the park that gets left out on the day that the whole hike focuses on water) and Photo 7 is a view from Little Summit. 

When I had hiked down to Mountsin Lake, I found myself looking  at a tree reflected in the lake. Thd shallow transparency of the water and the sunlight and gentle ripples from the breeze seemed for a moment to be singing “summer” and expressing the quintessence of my hike’s theme. I hope to convey a little of that “song” in photo 8. 

Then I hiked to Twin Lakes, and back up the mountain again, and then headed down again, this time by the paved road. I was aware of lots of grassy slopes as I walked the road and continued to reflect on memories of summers, including rolling down grassy slopes as a little girl. Photo 9 (actually from Little  Summit) is to evoke that feeling of grassy slopes and rolling down. 

Okay. Enough. I am sad how little of the day’s magic I can share with you when writing (as I am) four days later. But I really appreciate your walking with me and I want to pay my respects to you and the trail even if tardily and imperfectly. I am so very grateful.